


Patience

by keita52



Series: An absolute tiger between the sheets [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dragon Age Kink Meme, F/M, Fade Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Seduction, Shameless Smut, Teasing, Unresolved Sexual Tension, and then it gets resolved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 03:42:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3835705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keita52/pseuds/keita52
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inquisitor Trevelyan intends to seduce Solas, but he isn't going to make it easy for her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from the Kink Meme at the end.
> 
> Because apparently I can't finish anything that's not short PWP.

Solas always knows when Shaeri Trevelyan has come to visit him. Her scent, a rich spring lilac, always travels ahead of the sound of her footsteps. He is constantly struggling with the temptation to inhale that scent, close his eyes and let that wash of arousal he feels build. 

He is Fen’Harel, ancient, eternal. She is an arrogant shem using magic that she barely understands. One wrong move on her part would erase all hope he has of reclaiming his Orb, and some days that irritation spreads over into his interactions with her. Oddly, she seems to enjoy it. He will never understand humans.

“Inquisitor,” he says politely, when she is close enough that he could reasonably be expected to have noticed her. “How may I assist you?” 

Trevelyan does not reply instantly. She does this sometimes. At first it made Solas uncomfortable, but he has grown used to it. He is not the only one she does this to. Occasionally he has overheard Dorian snidely remarking that she should say what she came to say, already, and it makes him smile.

Solas bends over the table, tracing a finger across a passage in the book he is reading. He hears Trevelyan inhale sharply, in a way that instantly rings familiar with him, and he fights the urge to move. He had missed the signs that she was as attracted to him as he was to her. Stupid elvhen. He is losing his touch.

A heartbeat later, he feels Trevelyan’s warmth behind him. He goes stiff, in more ways than one. She runs a finger down his spine and then places her hand on his rear in an exploratory caress.

“What is the meaning of this?” Solas asks, trying his best to sound indignant.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Her voice is deep and rich and causes his cock to jump. He fights back a snarl. “I’m trying to seduce you, Solas.”

He will not give her the satisfaction of turning, of acknowledging that she is having any effect on him. “This is hardly appropriate.”

Trevelyan laughs. “No, it isn’t. That’s what makes it fun,” she says. She gives his rear a gentle squeeze before withdrawing her hand. She presses her body against his and he cannot help but let out a soft grunt at the contact. Her breath is hot against his neck. Her hands come to rest on his hips, resuming the slow and gentle caress that she had been using a moment ago. 

Solas is hard. So hard that he dares not move, not breathe, not do anything to encourage this outrageous behavior. He draws upon every ounce of patience he has at his disposal and remains still. 

“Playing hard to get, are we?” Trevelyan asks. “No matter. I’m certainly enjoying this.” Her lips press against his skin, tongue flicking gently to emphasize the contact. Solas fights temptation, closing his eyes to try and focus better. She continues to work her way across his neck, laying a trail of gentle kisses as she moves towards his mouth.

Solas decides to cheat. He whispers under his breath in elvhen, and his erection subsides. He will pay for it later. He turns around and meets her gaze, his face far colder than his insides feel. “That is quite enough,” he says firmly. “If you are going to invade my personal space in this manner, I shall take my leave.”

He stalks away, heading to his quarters. It gives him some amusement to hide his sleeping space from everyone at Skyhold, his secretive nature asserting itself. It is not until he has reached safety that he lets out a long breath. His hand has already started to drift towards his returning erection.

Here, in privacy, he gives in and closes his eyes. He conjures up her face, the features far too large and flat to be elven, brown skin and black hair that are nowhere near the tones he is used to. She is arrogant, demanding, cocky, grating on his nerves far too often.

Solas cries out as his seed spills to the floor, traces of her scent still in the air.

He resolves not to be taken by surprise again, and now he watches Trevelyan warily whenever she enters the rotunda. The first time after she had caused him to flee from his own desires, they had gotten into a staring contest, neither of them wanting to be the first to break eye contact. Eventually she left, muttering a harsh curse under her breath as she did so. He was wise enough to suspect that she had not given up.

When she visits again, she is not wearing any of her usual perfume, and it has the desired effect. She has circled around behind him again, keeping him pinned in place by proximity alone. Solas has realized that he should have asked her to leave, before - that by fleeing, he told her that she was affecting him. It has encouraged her, for this time her caresses are bolder, fingertips digging into his skin. He tries to stem the hitches in his breath that will tell her she is wearing him down. 

“I know why you’re trying to resist,” Trevelyan says in a soft voice. Her lips are right next to his ear. “You don’t actually like me that much. I know what you think of me. I know that you think I am playing with magic that should never have been mine.”

She has no idea how right she is.

Trevelyan falls into one of her usual silences as her hands continue to roam. Solas keeps himself rigid, unyielding. This time, he will make her leave. She has no right to come in here and tempt him in this manner. 

“I hardly see how any of that matters,” Solas says. “I have indicated that your advances are unwelcome. Most people would take that as a cue to leave and forget the matter.”

Trevelyan laughs richly. “Unwelcome?” she asks, her tone slightly mocking. He has, momentarily, forgotten how fast her reflexes are. Her right hand snakes around and cups his erection, and there is no stopping the moan at this sudden contact. She strokes him gently for a few moments while he struggles to pull himself together and find the will to break this contact. He wants, so badly, to let her do this. 

“Hardly that,” Trevelyan whispers, still pinning him there. “I would never have guessed that you were so large and thick, from your slender build. I bet it surprises your lovers when they first see it. This is going to feature in my dreams for quite some time, Solas.” She draws in a breath, her hand stilling and giving him a bare moment of relief. He is not quick enough to use that moment to pull away from her. “I want this in me. I want you to fuck me, Solas. We don’t like each other enough for it to be ‘making love’.” There is a hint of a sneer in her voice. “I want it to be raw, and hard, and have it end with both of us hoarse from screaming.”

That is disturbingly close to how Solas prefers his sexual encounters. He does not want to think about that. He does not want to think about Trevelyan in any context that might involve further intimacy. He does not want her to know how close he is to yielding. The thought of denying her that satisfaction is all that allows him to tug her hand away. He does not waste energy with the spell again. She has already divined the effect she has on him.

“As you say, we do not like each other,” Solas says. He does not turn around. It is taking all of his control to remain still. “That is usually a reason to avoid such intimate contact. You are, once again, invading my personal space, Inquisitor. I would ask that you leave unless you have actual business to discuss with me.”

Silence. Harsh breathing. “This isn’t over,” Trevelyan says. He hears her footsteps moving away, but does not relax. She could decide to return and try again.

“Maker, you are a stubborn one,” Dorian says from above. Solas curses, having forgotten there might be an audience. “I think you did the right thing, but if some handsome, charismatic fellow was touching me like that?”

“It is not your business, Dorian,” Solas says tersely. He does not like that Dorian now knows how much the Inquisitor affects him.

Dorian laughs. “No, no it is not. Go back to your studies, Solas. I promise I won’t try to seduce you.”

It takes quite some time before he is actually able to focus on anything besides her.

She does not visit him the next day. Or the one after that. Solas is irritated by his disappointment. He feels quite confident in his ability to hold out against her and almost wishes that she would try again, so that he could have those few moments of pleasure. The thought wrings a growl from him that is more Fen’Harel than Solas, and he is glad that Dorian is not around to hear him.

She is still on his mind when he returns to his quarters to sleep. He does a few meditating exercises that have helped him over the years before laying down and entering the Fade.

The first thing he hears is a woman’s moan, low and throaty, and he knows instantly that it is hers. Solas turns around to see Trevelyan, in his study, kneeling on top of his table. His books are scattered across the floor as though they had been knocked off. He is focusing on that detail to avoid thinking about the deeper ramifications. He has walked into her dream, of course, like a young fool. And because it is her dream, her fantasy, he is also there. 

Solas sees himself underneath Trevelyan. She is riding the dream-Solas with a smile on her face, her head thrown back in ecstasy. The sounds that are coming from his image are disturbingly accurate. He would not have guessed that she had such an excellent ear. 

All at once he is _angry_ , with her and with himself. He has lived too long to be affected by trivial matters such as this, but she has slipped under his skin and now he cannot be rid of her. He feels power settle over him like a mantle as he steps forward, entering the dream. His image vanishes, and there is a look of confusion on her face before he pins her to the table in its place. Solas holds her wrists down and bends his head, bringing his mouth to her neck and nipping at it - lightly at first, but when she moans in pleasure he bites her harder. He will show her what it would really be like to be fucked by him, Fen’Harel, Dread Wolf.

His erection is resting on her stomach, her hips thrusting upwards in a desperate motion. “Solas,” she whispers, and he growls in return. “Solas-“ and she gasps as his mouth moves down to grasp one of her nipples. Her back arches again, the pressure on his erection near painful, but he ignores it. She whimpers beneath him, her breathing ragged. 

Solas loses himself in her. It had been his fear this whole time, and it is now coming true. It takes him some time to notice that her whimpers had changed to words. She is pleading with him, desperately, begging him to fuck her. 

As he had dreamed of.

Solas lifts his head and gazes at her flushed face, memorizing the sight, before he slides into her. Trevelyan gasps and tries to clutch him, but he is keeping her hands pinned to the table. Solas moves slowly, deliberately, making a careful note of where he wrings the most response from her. He is almost unbearably hard, his body screaming for release, but he is able to keep being patient. He is enjoying this too much, enjoying having the Inquisitor moaning beneath him. 

She is begging him again.

“-please, please, I need to - need to come,” Trevelyan says, the words broken by ragged breaths. She is pressing herself against him, back arched, hands straining. She is quivering with need. 

Solas releases her hands, which instantly reach for his back and try to pull him down flat on top of her. He lets her, easing up on the pressure he has been putting on her middle at the same time. Trevelyan’s hands dig into his back as she thrusts - once, twice, and then he feels her come. He growls in pleasure at the sounds she makes, her whimpers in time with her desperate movements. “So-las-“ she breathes, and he comes undone. He thrusts roughly against her, causing her soft whimpers to increase to loud gasps once more. He moans, growls, lets her know just how much pleasure he is wringing out of this encounter. He presses against the spots that he has found to be sensitive and draws out her climax for as long as he is physically able. 

Solas knows that as soon as he releases her, exits her dream, it will fade and she will sleep normally. It is, perhaps, too late to convince her that this was a normal dream, but he will try regardless. He kisses her forehead and wraps some of his magic around her, telling her in elvhen that nothing out of the ordinary happened. Trevelyan sighs and relaxes herself as Solas stands to leave. 

Perhaps this will be enough for both of them. Perhaps this will end her mad quest to seduce him. He is not convinced that he wants that to happen, but he forces himself to wish for it anyways. To do otherwise would be to admit that he is an old fool.


	2. Chapter 2

Trevelyan leaves Skyhold for a time, after that. There is some matter that has arisen in the Emerald Graves. Solas does not volunteer to go with her. He never volunteers, though he will always go if she asks.

This time, she does not. She takes Rainier (though the man still insists on being called Blackwall), Sera, and Cassandra. He tries to view this as a good thing. She will forget about him. As the days pass he steadfastly refuses to admit that he misses her. He spends his time alone, reading or studying, or engaging in a few small experiments relating to the strength of the Veil. He could almost fool himself into thinking that he could stay like this indefinitely.

Five days after Trevelyan’s departure, Solas feels a tug on him while he walks in the Fade. This is not uncommon. There are many elven who call to the Dread Wolf in their prayers and dreams. Their tugs are small and inconsequential, easily ignored.

This one grows stronger as time passes, and eventually he feels compelled to investigate. He approaches warily, and as he grows closer, he catches the scent of lilac in the air. Her scent.

He finds himself, once again, in his study. Trevelyan is standing behind his dream-image, an odd look on her face. Her boldness seems to have deserted her as she touches him tentatively. The dream-Solas does not respond, a look of cool indifference on his face. The image blurs as though she is losing her grasp on the dream.

Solas seizes power and throws it at the dream before it can vanish, drawing himself in once more. A blink, and their positions are reversed. She is standing over his table and he is behind her, pressing close. Trevelyan lets out a startled gasp before she leans into him. 

“You will remain absolutely still,” he murmurs into her ear. “You may speak, though I may not respond. Is that understood?”

“Y-yes,” Trevelyan says, and he tries not to feel relief at the raw longing in her voice. He has let this go too far already, but he cannot turn away. 

He touches her slowly, admiring her muscle and curves. “Resist, if you can,” he says, unable to keep a slightly mocking tone from entering his voice. “Resist the touch and presence of someone you are attracted to against your better judgment. Someone you have nothing in common with, someone who irritates you and will not yield to common sense.” 

Solas does not realize that he has used a small trace of his magic until he notices just how still she is holding herself. Even here, in the Fade, it should not be possible. He tries to ignore the excitement that this sight causes. Trevelyan, unnaturally still, while he touches her with impunity. Her face is the only thing that is moving, and her expression is unfocused, eyes half-closed, lips parted as she sighs in pleasure. 

“It is quite hard to hold yourself indifferent while being touched in this manner,” Solas says, almost conversationally. “While your groin burns with desire, wanting to feel that intimate contact, that exquisite pleasure.” His hands move to caress her suddenly-exposed breasts, courtesy of dream logic. She gasps, and either his magic is slipping or she is overcoming it, because she practically falls back against him. The triumph he feels is both worrying and satisfying. 

Solas has been so focused on Trevelyan that he has been neglecting his own rapidly increasing desire. The pressure of his erection between his body and hers hits him suddenly, and he is filled with an overwhelming need to take her, make her gasp and squirm beneath him. He growls and flips her around, pressing her rear against the edge of the table. With a deliberate effort he lets the rest of his magic fade, gives her room to move as she sees fit.

Trevelyan’s hands come to rest on his chest, clutching at him, trying to pull him close. She is panting rhythmically, on the brink of an orgasm. Solas smiles and spreads her legs wide before moving forward and sliding inside her. She tosses her head back and clutches at his shoulders, her pants turning into shallow gasps. It is the sweetest sound Solas has heard in quite some time. 

He does not try to slow down her rapid pace, her desperate need. He is enjoying the sight of her like this, completely wrapped up in an ongoing climax. He is still rock hard inside her. It is taking all of his control to keep himself that way, but he knows it will be worth it. 

When she has slaked herself and collapses against him once more, arms around his neck, he takes a moment to press his mouth against her hair and inhale her lilac scent. It never fails to astonish him how much detail can be found in the Fade. He wonders if this corner of the Fade will forever carry that scent.

“This is what you wanted,” Solas tells her. He acknowledges, finally, that there is no turning back for him. “You wanted me to fuck you. You wanted it raw, and hard, and you wanted to be hoarse from screaming when it is over.” He traces a slim finger down the side of her face and smiles wickedly. “You have not yet screamed your lungs out.”

He gives her a few moments more to rest before he starts again. Solas forces himself to be slow at first, to ensure that she is primed and ready for him. Her soft breathing against his skin is an indicator of his progress on that front, and he is gratified at how quickly he rouses her to a fever pitch once more. Solas nibbles at her neck, remembering the response he got from her before. He bites harder, leaving a mark. It is safe to do so, as they are in the Fade, and it will not last. He wants to mark her as his, but he is not quite ready to share that fact. Even with her.

She gasps, goes taut against him. He holds her there and thrusts upwards rapidly. The pace he sets is punishing, designed to leave her raw and exhausted. He is going to make her scream. It will satisfy both of them. 

When she begins to moan, he growls in response and presses harder against her. The moans are satisfying, but they are not what he wants. Not what she wants. His hands are digging into the side of the table, and it is almost too painful, too intense. But he has endured far worse than this, and for a reward that fell far short of what this one promises to be. 

“Solas!” Now she is screaming, and he feels his release wash over him. There are other words there, but his name is the only one that he cares about. He is once again lost in her, in the feel of her against him, her scent, the wetness that is threatening to drip down his leg. She has gone slack, his desire outlasting hers. As it should be. She is mortal; he is not.

 _I will be waiting for you._ The words form in his mind, and he could swear that they echo in the Fade. That she can hear him. He is not sure whether to hope that he is right or not. He is afraid to ask whether she knows that this has been more than a dream. He is not sure that he would respond well to rejection.

Solas reminds himself that she began this, that she pursued him, and lets the hope sit in his chest like a fire as he leaves her to her dreaming once more.

——

It is late at night, a week later, when Trevelyan returns from the Emerald Graves. Solas knows this because of the commotion her impending arrival causes, sending servants and advisors scurrying to welcome her back. He joins the crowd because it would be out of character for him not to.

Their eyes meet for a single moment as she rides up. Solas cannot read anything from that moment. Forces himself to remain calm as he returns to his sleeping quarters. He will make her come to him. No matter how much his body began to ache from that sight of her.

He begins to wonder if she is also trying to hold out when the next morning passes without any sight of her. Then, a few hours before dinner, he smells her scent. She is wearing more perfume than usual. It has an instant effect. An almost shameful effect. He turns before he realizes that is what he is doing, sees her standing there. His eyes meet hers, dark pools that threaten to draw him in. He sees her breath catch in her throat. She moves towards him with the same grace she displays on the battlefield. He has never really appreciated it before now.

Trevelyan is wearing a dress, flowing and elegant, instead of her usual shirt and trousers. The bright blue is a startling contrast against her dark brown skin. Solas has never seen her wearing anything so fine. 

“Inquisitor,” he says, and no amount of determined self-control will hide the husky note in his voice that tells her she has gotten the effect she desired. He cannot bring himself to care at what he has given away.

Her gaze is still locked on his as she crosses the distance separating them. His heart is beating faster, in time with the intense throbbing around his groin. Trevelyan puts her hand to his chest when she is but a few inches from him. She stays there for a moment before she removes her hand and sinks to her knees. Solas is too fascinated by the sight to do anything other than watch as she removes his clothes. He is ashamed at how thick and hard he is from proximity alone, momentarily angry with himself for allowing her to affect him this strongly. The anger dissipates as she runs one finger down his full length. Solas sucks in a breath and lets his head fall backwards, reveling in the sensations she is causing. 

Then Trevelyan’s lips are closing around the end of his erection, her tongue swirling once before she takes him deeper into her mouth, and Solas knows for sure that this is real. This is happening. He feels a surge of triumph and reaches out to touch her cheek, run his fingers through her hair. His head falls forward and he looks at her. As though she senses his gaze, her eyes open and she gives him a self-satisfied look. _This is where I want to be_ , she seems to say with that glance. _This is what I want to be doing._

Solas groans and clutches the edge of his desk. He hears a responding whimper from her as she takes him deeper into her mouth. He spares a corner of his mind to admire her skill and confidence. She does know exactly what she is doing. Solas lets himself enjoy this until he hears her whimpers changing, taking on an edge of plaintive need. He looks at her and sees that one of her hands has drifted downwards, to rub at her slit. Solas puts his hands on her shoulders and gently pushes her away. Trevelyan looks confused for a moment, and almost makes a move to continue what she had been doing, but Solas is stronger and faster than she. He backs her up swiftly, until she is pressed against the wall, and then he kisses her. She tastes like _him_ , his seed still on her tongue. Trevelyan throws herself into the kiss with the same enthusiasm she had been displaying a moment before. She is gasping every time they break for air, her hands running up and down his sides, keeping him close to her.

Solas reaches behind her to find the ties for her dress, and he forces himself to take care in unlacing it. He wants to see her wearing it again. He is practiced at such things and the dress is soon on the floor. He pulls off his tunic and presses himself against her, basking in the heat she is giving off. 

“Solas,” she whispers, placing her arms on his biceps.

“Vhenan,” he responds before he enters her. She moans loudly, and he can tell that she is right on the edge. He does not have the patience to try and keep her there, milk every moment of enjoyment that he can. He does not have to worry that this will never happen again, and his body is demanding release as much as hers is.

Solas kisses the side of her neck as he takes her. He is too close to be gentle, but he is not deliberately rough with her either. The sounds she makes urge him forward until they are both breathing hard, gasping, clutching the other one close in desperate need. Their climaxes are nearly simultaneous, and it fills Solas with a sense of satisfaction and triumph. 

Silence fills the air for a few moments before Trevelyan speaks. “Collect your belongings from whatever hovel you’ve been sleeping in,” she says, every inch the Inquisitor once more. “You won’t be spending another night there.”

“As you wish, Inquisitor,” he replies. 

“Shaeri,” she corrects him gently. “Call me by my name, Solas.”

“As you wish, Shaeri,” Solas says, running a hand down the side of her cheek. 

“Oh my,” a voice says from behind them. Solas turns to see Dorian, arms crossed, leaning against the wall near the door. “Nice arse, Solas.”

Trevelyan - Shaeri - laughs as Solas tries not to blush. “Don’t you have curtains to be lighting on fire?” Solas asks curtly. 

“Looks like you already took care of that,” Dorian says with a snicker, and leaves.

Solas mutters under his breath and tries to think of a suitable way to repay Dorian. He decides, after a moment, that revenge can wait. Something much more appealing is still pressed against him, after all, and she is tilting her head up in a clear invitation. 

He leans in and bites her neck, this time hard enough to bruise, letting the world know that Shaeri Trevelyan belongs to him, regardless of what else may happen. He will continue to make sure of that, selfish though it may be on his part. She chased him, and he caught her, and a wolf protects what is his.

**Author's Note:**

> I just really get turned on when I think about someone coming up behind another character and feeling them up, trying to seduce them. Kissing their neck, pressing against them, licking their ear, whispering all of their naughty thoughts, the ol' reach-around, anything you can think of. So that's the prompt. Make it hot, anons!
> 
> Note: this is NOT noncon. This is patient seduction.
> 
> All the cookies for:
> 
> +++++++++ non-established relationship  
> ++ starts out dubcon, seductee is SUPER resistant to having sex with this person, because reasons  
> ++ but they're not pushing the seducer off either, because Maker this is so wrong but HOT  
> ++ why is it wrong? pick your kink! cheating? incest? underage? unprofessional? risk of getting caught/public? so many options, anons.  
> \+ het pairing, or  
> \+ if slash or femslash, seductee has never been attracted to the same sex before  
> +++ seductee is SO hesitant that this becomes an ongoing thing, and s/he starts to look forward to it  
> ++++++ eventual submission to temptation and full blown sexy times  
> +++ maybe they've been fighting the heat because they can't stand each other and that turns into hate sex?


End file.
